


The Queen Consort

by MadeInSpace



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate History, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Arranged Marriage, Consort Clarke, F/F, Pining, Queen Lexa
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-07
Updated: 2017-06-24
Packaged: 2018-10-28 20:49:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10839183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadeInSpace/pseuds/MadeInSpace
Summary: As the music swelled around them to announce the festivities ahead, Clarke only noticed how quickly the Queen dropped her hand.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, I got permission from LostInJellyBean to take over her wonderful story. I'm really excited about it. The first two chapters are her work that I'm rewriting to fit my style. From then on it'll be my writing only. Hope you enjoy!

The ladies-in-waiting braided her hair with practiced ease, weaving summer flowers between the interlaced strands. Clarke knew where the flowers came from, ripped from the soil of her home and traveled overnight to the castle. The flowers would wilt before sunset, and how appropriate that felt.

The dress she wore was a silky white with gold and silver embroidery, every stitch sewn with her in mind. Clarke struggled to take deep breaths, her breasts constrained, too used to the loose gowns she favored back home. She hadn't dared protest the style knowing she would wear gold and the finest of fabrics. It would be like complaining she was treated like a queen. Overwhelming as it was, Clarke was grateful for the many women involved in getting her ready. Without the two ladies-in-waiting carrying her train, she wouldn't even manage a step forward.

She was whisked out of the room and down the splendid halls of her new home, passing the arches and balconies that overlooked the queendom and its woodlands. There were too many stairs to count, hidden doors, traps, and other secret passages that Clarke had trouble memorizing. She wondered if she would familiarize herself with all of them or if the castle would remain as foreign to her as her wife.

What Clarke knew of Queen Lexa was largely intimidating. Her coronation had occurred five winters ago. She was the heir of a long line of strong and healthy monarchs, the first to ever be crowned at barely fifteen. Her mother and father had been ambushed and murdered on a trip to strengthen their alliance with the northern nobilities, and young Lexa had found herself with the weight of the realm on her shoulders. Clarke could still remember how wide Lexa's eyes had been, how big the crown had looked atop her head, almost as if it would tilt to the side and fall. Lexa had turned to face her court carrying the sword of her late mother, one that nearly dragged on the floor when sheathed back into its scabbard. Clarke had just been a face amongst others, only thirteen herself with her father holding her hand, but she remembered watching her new Queen and wondering how she would carry such a burden on such small shoulders.

And yet, Lexa had shown only strength from then on. The pocket of northern traitors had been caught and Lexa had executed them herself, hand steady on the hilt of her sword. She had remained north throughout spring and summer, working alongside the noblewomen and men who'd questioned the authority of such a young monarch. Youth could be selfish and volatile – Lexa had understood the importance of her presence. Few people knew exactly what had transpired during that time, but the Queen had returned to her castle with strong treaties in place, new trading arrangements, and the promise of peace. She had returned taller and stronger, regal like her mother, her sword always by her side. It was said she was ready for war even amid peace, a quality that reassured her people they were well protected.

Clarke knew all too well the rumors that spread about their queen's negotiations. Some said it was her heart she had sacrificed for such a prosperous reign, coldly trading it for an astute mind and an unbreakable body. Lexa had remained unmarried for seasons on end, so much so that her royal council had grown exasperated by the neighboring nobles sending over their daughters for 'courtesy visits'. It was at their insistence that Lexa had agreed to a marriage with Duchess Griffin's only child, the heiress of an estate that shared a convenient border with the North. The Griffin family had a long-standing relationship with the royal family, facilitating the safe passage of many goods through their land.

On paper, the union was perfect. But the Queen had accepted the arrangement without spending a day in her future bride's company, without caring who would sleep beside her, and Clarke could only fear she was entering the kind of marriage that did not grow past convenience.

♕

It was her mother's second husband who gave her away. Marcus Kane led her down the great hall with a jubilant smile, himself rather dazed by the beauty of the castle. His beard was groomed and his clothes the finest he could find, dark greens and blues in honor of their queen. Clarke barely recognized him at first, too caught up in trying to breathe without tearing the tight stitches of her dress.

"You look beautiful," Marcus said in a soft tone. "The Queen can't keep her eyes off of you."

Clarke dared look up for the first time. Lexa waited for her bride at the end of the hall, standing in front of her throne and the officiant. Her hairstyle was similar to Clarke's – although Clarke now realized it was hers that was styled to resemble the Queen's. She wore her military garb as per tradition, the fur-lined coat of her mother, and holsters wrapped around her thighs to carry two golden knives. They symbolized her ability to protect her spouse, though Clarke suspected the Queen carried them for her own peace of mind rather than to respect an antiquated custom.

Where Marcus saw fondness in Lexa's eyes, Clarke only saw a blank stare. The Queen was looking her way out of common sense. What would the court say if she were to stare at her attendants instead? Clarke swallowed the knot in her throat, hoping that at least she wasn't entirely unpleasant to look at.

The hope was crushed after Marcus left her in front of the steps and retreated next to Clarke's mother. Clarke heard the collective behind her hold their breath, but her bride's eyes were unwavering. That was until they flickered from Clarke's eyes to the plush cushion at her feet, an expectant expression on her face. All at once, Clarke felt reprimanded.

She knelt down, biting the insides of her cheeks when anger twisted inside her. The Queen couldn't have arched her eyebrow higher if she tried. Clarke kept her head bowed, hands joined in front of her as she waited to be crowned. First the crown, then the vows. It was an unsubtle way of having Lexa marry within her rank.

The officiant started his litany with a dull tone, and it seemed like an eternity before Clarke felt the weight of the crown atop her head. With it, the entire realm suddenly settled on her shoulders. If Clarke thought her dress was heavy, it was nothing compared to the sense of duty she suddenly carried. Duty to the court behind her, to the women, children, and men she would never have the time to know.

At last, Lexa extended a hand. Clarke took it dutifully, surprised that it was both soft and strong. She felt in such a daze that she feared she might faint, but Lexa never wavered. The binding cloth was placed over their joined hands as the sermon continued, each word echoing in the great hall:

"We stand here to witness the union of wife and wife. Look upon each other and recite your vows together."

Clarke stared into her bride's eyes for the first time and felt her heart gallop in her chest. Lexa looked nothing like the girl she remembered from her coronation. She was poised, barely blinking, a marble statue if it weren't for her lips parting. Clarke ignored the small scar on her mouth, forgot that it was difficult to breathe, that she was marrying a stranger, her queen, a woman who she knew would still look striking without the crown on her head and the red sash over her shoulder. Clarke forgot so many things that when she opened her mouth, nothing came out. Her eyes widened a fraction, panicked.

Lexa squeezed her hand beneath the cloth, and all at once the vows rushed to mind.

"I take you in my heart at the rising of the moon and the setting of the stars. I swear to treat you as my equal, to love and to honor you through all that may come, through all our lives together."

The Queen took a breath before continuing on her own:

"With this kiss, I bind our vow."

Their lips chastely pressed together until the entire court burst into applause, and Lexa turned to face them with a thin smile.

Just like that, it was done.

As the grand doors opened and the music swelled around them to announce the festivities ahead, Clarke only noticed how quickly the Queen dropped her hand.

♕

The celebration would last all night and extend far beyond the castle, but Clarke knew she wouldn't be a part of it. She was guided out of the hall with gentle hands, her heart beating fast when the music and laughter became distant echoes. Lexa was escorted away in the same manner, her sash the last thing Clarke saw before she heard the soft giggle of her youngest lady-in-waiting.

They entered the royal bedroom and wasted no time in undressing Clarke. The crown came off first, set on its own cushion on a table that would carry nothing else. The dress was second, and Clarke felt like she could breathe for the first time. Of course it didn't last, her wedding dress quickly replaced by the nightgown Lexa would find her in. It was a light blue with a green hem and the neckline was more revealing than Clarke was used to, but at least it was much lighter than the wedding dress. Clarke was grateful for that alone. The wilted flowers in her hair were third; gently plucked out before the same hands freed her hair from its braids. It fell in golden waves past her shoulders and Clarke knew the ladies-in-waiting were done for the night. They lit the candles and closed the door behind them, leaving their new Consort to wait for her wife.

Clarke waited until she couldn't hear their footsteps anymore. She stood illuminated by the candles' glow for a long time, wondering how the day could've passed so quickly. When her legs started to tire, she sat on the bed and worried her hands on her lap, expecting the door to open at any moment.

It was a long time before she allowed her thoughts to wander. She wondered what kind of nightgown Lexa wore, if she carried her crown to bed, if she'd blow the candles out. She reflected on their kiss, too short to consider it more than a brush of lips, but still – their first kiss. Clarke felt her stomach knot at the thought of anything more than that. Maybe Lexa wouldn't address her at all. It would be a quick affair, a duty fulfilled. Clarke slid her hands on the luxurious fabric beneath her, soft and warm, no doubt new. She thought about the night to come, about her wife next to her, the way she looked and the way she looked at her…

…with that infuriating head tilt, that arched brow as she waited for Clarke to bow before her. It roused the opposite of what Clarke had hoped, a sense of embarrassment and the anger that accompanied it. Clarke would’ve bowed without the reminder; she'd just needed a moment to compose herself, to take a deep breath before she knelt for all the court to see. Maybe it was Lexa's nature to be impatient, but it wasn't the Queen that Clarke had heard the tales of.

The night wind whistled at the window, pulling Clarke from her thoughts. She watched the candles burn out as she came to a glum realization: Lexa wouldn't share their bed tonight.

♕

The morning came abruptly, announced by a sharp knock at the door. Clarke was curled at the very edge of the bed, the heavy blanket down to her waist. The door opened to reveal two ladies-in-waiting no older than she. Clarke was acutely aware of the way they glanced at each other when they noticed their Queen was missing. Her side of the bed was unmade and the Consort's nightgown had remained on her frame, laced in the back the way it was last night.

"Good morning, Your Highness."

Clarke sat up, the bottom of her feet hitting the carpeted floor. "Good morning."

They were gentle when they undressed and dressed her, but Clarke knew they pitied her. Or perhaps they wondered what was so wrong with her that the Queen wouldn't spend the night. After they'd laced her dress and untangled her hair, they lingered at the foot of the bed. Clarke realized they were going to change the sheets, but they hesitated to do it now.

"That won't be necessary," Clarke said with a forced smile. "Thank you."

They made the bed instead, and Clarke caught herself wondering if her wife was awake. She got her answer when another lady-in-waiting – Lady Maya Vie, she fleetingly remembered – appeared at the door.

"Are you ready, Your Highness? The Queen will be joining you for breakfast."

Clarke bit the insides of her cheeks to keep herself from scoffing. She nodded instead and followed Lady Maya down several halls and into the dining room.

She sat at the end of the table as several more servants came out with plates of fruit, bread, brioche, cheese, cake, and two jars of honey. Standing in the corner of the room, Lady Maya offered her a kind smile, nodding at her in a way that told Clarke it might be a while before her Royal Majesty sat her Royal Bottom down.

Clarke berated herself for even caring. She grabbed the jar of honey and, trying not to feel so closely observed, spread a thick clump on a slice of bread. She bit off more than she could chew, and of course Lexa chose this moment to enter the room and sit down. Clarke quickly grabbed her glass to wash down the food, but the juice was so tart that she coughed in surprise.

"Are you all right?" Lexa asked with a crease between her brows.

"Quite," Clarke responded, voice raspier than she intended it to be.

Lexa nodded and started her own meal, a spread of cheese and fruit on her plate. Of course she didn't choke on her breakfast, and of course she didn't grimace when she drank the pomegranate juice. Still, watching the Queen eat was bizarre, as if Clarke forgot she too had human needs.

"Did you sleep well?" Clarke couldn't help but ask. If she had yet to understand the Queen, maybe she could get to know the woman first.

Lexa was just as evasive as she was during the ceremony, eyes barely glancing at her wife before they settled back on her meal. "Yes. And you?"

"I did."

When Lexa continued to eat without so much as looking her way, Clarke let the anger she felt at dusk coil tight in her stomach. If this was the kind of marriage the Queen wanted, Clarke wouldn't stand in her way.

After breakfast, Lexa met with her council and Clarke was led toward the great hall to meet with nobles. The rest of the morning was tedious. Clarke knew her role as Consort would be demanding, but she hadn't realized just how many names she would have to memorize in a short span of time.

She greeted dukes, counts, and barons, women and men who had mastered the art of demanding things in ways that appeared entirely nonchalant. They bribed with such subtle turns of phrases that Clarke had to work double to discern need from greed. Some noblewomen of lower rank were more frank, their appeals not so cleverly articulated but certainly passionate. Clarke enjoyed their company much better than the silver-tongued countesses. Still, once they left in their carriages on their way back to their husbands or wives, Clarke couldn't help but feel a pang of envy.

Duchess Abigail Griffin found her later in the day; herself eager to flaunt it was her daughter the Queen had married. This was a time for business. Clarke invited her to walk in the gardens and sought comfort in her arms. Their embrace was as strained as Clarke remembered them being at home.

"You'll make a wonderful Consort," Abigail started, brushing a hand over her daughter's cheek.

Clarke immediately soured. She'd hoped they could enjoy their walk without the reminder she was married. "I'd hate to disappoint."

They continued on the serpentine path in familiar silence, but Clarke knew their time together was limited. The trip back to the Griffin estate was long and tiring, and Abigail wasn't known to enjoy time off from her duties.

"When will I see you again?" Clarke asked in a quieter tone.

"I'll make sure not to miss the winter ball."

Clarke halted in her steps. "Winter," she repeated. Abigail faced her daughter with a tight expression, but Clarke knew the Duchess didn't believe in apologies. "I see."

"You know I can't leave the estate whenever I wish. I'll write you."

"You loathe writing. The ink stains your skin."

"I'll make the effort."

"How noble," Clarke chuckled bitterly. "Well, I hope you have a safe trip, mother."

Abigail sighed. "You're still so young. Perhaps one day you'll understand my decisions better."

"Perhaps one day my father will take me away from here."

"Clarke."

"Unlikely, isn't it?"

The sound of footsteps on gravel interrupted them. Clarke composed herself when she saw the Queen stop on the path with her hands behind her back.

Abigail bowed her head. "Your Majesty."

"Forgive me for intruding," Lexa started, rather awkwardly. "I heard you were leaving the castle and wanted to ensure you have everything you need."

"I do, thank you."

Lexa glanced between mother and daughter before clearing her throat. "I believe the Duke is waiting for you by the carriage. Please, allow me to escort you."

Abigail nodded. "With pleasure." She looked at Clarke and smiled tensely. "Clarke, I—"

"Goodbye, mother."

Clarke ignored the way Lexa looked at her, as if surprised by the curt tone. Her features slid back into their usual composure when the Duchess stepped back on the small path toward the castle. Clarke watched them leave for a moment before she turned around and marched further into the gardens, enjoying the breeze as she passed the oaks that had stood for centuries.

She leaned against the parapet at the end of the garden, admiring the view ahead: the waterfall that fell into the large river at the bottom of the hill, the lush forest stretching far beyond the castle and its domain. Clarke knew her mother's carriage would drive through it, but any further thought on what lied ahead left a bitter taste in her mouth. She stayed there a while, long enough for the sun to climb higher in the sky.

Clarke was surprised it took so long before she heard footsteps behind her. She was prepared to apologize to Lady Maya for disappearing, but was met with green eyes instead. They stared at each other a moment before Lexa approached the parapet and gazed at the horizon. Finally, she took a small breath:

"It's a beautiful day," Lexa started. "Your mother and father-in-law should make a swift return."

Clarke rested her forearms on the cold stone, nodding in agreement. "Thank you for accompanying her, Your Majesty."

Lexa clasped her hands behind her back as silence settled between them. "I understand they'll be staying with friends overnight."

Clarke picked at moss between two stones, scowling at the thought of another familiar face she was uncertain she'd see before the winter. "Count Jaha," she answered plainly. "His son and I grew up together."

Lexa must have read something else between the lines, the soft _oh_ that escaped her enough to confuse Clarke.

"Is this… childhood friend married?" Lexa asked.

Clarke arched an eyebrow. "Not yet, no. His father is letting him choose."

"I see."

 _Infuriating_ , Clarke thought. "Have you something to say, Your Majesty?"

"Lexa will be fine."

Clarke felt the need to speak her mind. "I don't make a habit of calling strangers by their first name."

Lexa's mouth fell open, taken aback by the statement. "I would think being your wife would exclude me from that category."

"Are you?" Clarke replied. When Lexa blinked at her, she clarified. "My wife."

"Have I dreamt of our wedding ceremony?" Lexa retorted.

"You certainly haven’t rushed to seal the union."

Lexa bristled, a twitch in her jaw. She wasn't used to a challenge – Clarke could tell.

"Maybe I repulse you," Clarke guessed aloud, emboldened by the way the Queen squared her shoulders, as if to intimidate her.

Lexa scoffed. "Are you chasing a compliment?"

Clarke took a step forward. "You haven't looked me in the eye since the ceremony. You've moved out of your room—"

"So you can have your own bed," Lexa countered fruitlessly, heels digging into the ground when Clarke came closer still.

"You barely even kissed me."

"We were in front of the court."

"You avoided me after breakfast—"

"The council was waiting, you are more than welcome to join."

"And still now you grip your sword and clench your teeth as if my every word is an insult to you."

"I didn't ask for this marriage!" Lexa snapped.

"Well neither did I!"

Clarke's eyes widened at her admission. It was one thing for the Queen to say it, it was another for the Consort to be so blunt. What if a lady-in-waiting had heard? Clarke stood her ground regardless, her chest rising and falling rapidly as they stared into each other's eyes. She caught Lexa glancing down at her lips before her nostrils flared and she held her chin high.

"So we agree," Lexa declared.

"Fully," Clarke bit back.

Lexa tightened her grip on the hilt of her sword. "I'll see you at supper, then."

"I suppose you will."

"Perhaps I should ask Lady Maya to swap your juice for warm milk, you seemed to have trouble keeping it down."

Clarke glared. "The juice is fine."

Lexa let out a long breath before nodding. It had all the indication of a ceasefire. "Have a good afternoon."

"Good afternoon, Your Majesty."

Clarke almost feared the Queen would dislocate her jaw from how tight it seemed. A flash of something dark crossed her eyes before she was walking away with a childish huff. If Clarke's heart hadn't been pounding away in her chest, she'd have found it easy to laugh. Perhaps they were a match after all.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the feedback! Updates should be fairly regular. Check out my tumblr for questions or random tidbits: madeinspace.tumblr.com.

Life at the castle was hectic, a sort of meticulous chaos that Clarke watched unfold with great attention. As the days passed, she came to recognize the faces of the guards, servants, gardeners, and cooks. There wasn't a moment they didn't work hard to maintain the castle's splendor. It was the high nobility that Clarke suddenly felt harder to converse with. She knew how absurd it was – she was the daughter of a Duke herself – but there were times when she wished everyone would leave their titles at the castle doors.

One day, a girl with a smile meant to break hearts stared at her intently. She accompanied her father, the graying Lord Dewitt, who attempted to make his case: his neighbor's crops had overtaken a portion of his land and the young man in question, higher in title, refused to compromise before his laborers could harvest. Clarke felt her blood boil already.

"May I see the maps?" She asked.

Lord Dewitt hurried to unfold the rolls he carried. Sweat from his forehead dripped on the old paper and he fumbled with his kerchief, embarrassed. Clarke could tell he was anxious for this meeting to be a success. His wife had passed away last winter and their family had been struggling financially since then. To see the hopeful look on his face when Clarke carefully examined the map was nearly heartbreaking.

Black ink outlined the borders of his land; a decent amount of fertile soil if it weren’t for the large chunk his neighbor had claimed. Clarke recognized the name immediately.

"You were right to take this to court," she said. "It isn't the first time Lord Blake has planted his insipid crops where they don't belong."

Lord Dewitt's daughter, so far quiet, tilted her head to the side. "I take it you've tasted his cabbage?" She asked with a thin smile.

Clarke nodded as she took a quill. "I've had the displeasure two winters ago."

The words for the decree came easily and Clarke hoped the greedy Lord Blake would not contest them. She signed with her title - by order of the Queen Consort - and sealed it with the royal crest, the twelve-pointed wheel. She felt a dizzying sense of authority, the mere power at her fingertips dangerous in nature. She wondered if Lexa ever felt the same, if sometimes it scared her, too, what she could do without anyone stopping her. Not that her wife would ever confide in her.

"And how is Her Royal Majesty?" The Dewitt daughter asked with a high brow.

"Costia," Lord Dewitt warned. His voice was so severe that it surprised Clarke. She ignored the unspoken words between father and daughter, choosing to give the same answer she gave every noble who asked:

"She's well."

"Is she really?"

Clarke stiffened, surprised by the goading tone. "Pardon?"

"I had thought perhaps she would join us—"

"Enough," Lord Dewitt scolded.

Costia relented, inclining her head in apology. "Forgive me. I'm merely concerned about our queen's well-being."

"We are in the presence of our queen," Lord Dewitt reminded her.

"Of course," Costia murmured.

Clarke cleared her throat and gave Lord Dewitt his decree. He thanked her twice, handling the paper with utmost care. They were on their way shortly after that, but Clarke caught Costia looking toward the thrones as if she wished Lexa would appear.

It was not the first time Clarke had noticed a woman linger in the great hall. Costia was here before, no doubt, and long before Lexa was spoken for. It wasn't a secret that the castle had seen many women come in and out with the hope of catching their Queen's attention.

Clarke put the quill away and turned to look at the thrones herself. They were side-by-side, so close that Clarke knew her arm would touch Lexa's if they ever sat together. At the age of nine, Clarke had seen Lexa's parents in those very seats. They had seemed so far away to her, untouchable like the legends her father told her about at night. Clarke imagined herself sitting next to Lexa and felt embarrassment coil in her stomach. The court would probably wish Lexa had chosen someone more graceful to sit by her side.

For now, the only reason they would have to sit together would be to decide on the life or death of a criminal, a burden Clarke wasn't eager to share. There was the winter ball, too, but it was so far away that Clarke decided not to worry about it. Perhaps by then she'd have made her wife smile at least once.

♕

In the evening, Clarke strolled down the open corridor of the castle, her hand gliding over the stone of the intricate arches. The sky was painted red and orange, clouds large and proud as the sun dipped behind the woodland. At least the view was familiar, one she watched countless times from the other side of the realm.

She remembered every sunset she shared with her father, every dusking sky she gazed at with Wells Jaha, the both of them laying in the grass as they shared their hopes for the future. Mostly, he waxed poetic about the stable girl he adored and Clarke grinned at his ardent use of metaphors. She missed his friendship, though she knew she was responsible for the distance between them.

Wells hadn't been raised like she had, had never even visited the court once. He was allowed the gift of a simple life; a simple marriage with the person of his choice. Clarke's mother was genuinely fond of the Jaha's, but it couldn't be said she shared their lack of ambition. Her daughter had always been meant for greatness, meant to wear a crown one day, and so it was that way she'd been raised.

At the very least, Clarke wouldn't have married outside of nobility. Abigail had thought of every possibility, and so Clarke had known from a very young age that dreaming the way Wells did could only lead to heartache. And yet, as the years passed, Clarke had caught herself wondering about the future. Something had changed - perhaps it was because her numerous trips to court had exposed her to inexperienced but nonetheless pleasant courtship from young Ladies and Lords - and Clarke had embraced the reveries.

She hadn't been good at picturing anyone the way Wells did so easily, but she'd hoped for someone who would love her just the way she was, someone who would smile fondly when she spoke her mind rather than scowl the way some haughty nobles did. She didn't care about propriety no matter how much it upset her mother. (Contradicting smarmy boys had always made her father laugh and the sound had been worth her mother's glare.)

Still deep in thought and warmed by the last rays of the sun, Clarke's hands tightened around the balustrade, as if to stay in this spot forever and be content with her memories. It didn't hurt as much to think of her father now, especially when his laugh still made her ears tingle.

She wished he could've been the one walking her toward her crown, but mostly she wanted to ask him when he'd started loving Abigail, and if he'd felt the same sort of anger toward her when their families had arranged their wedding.

"Are you all right, Your Highness?"

Clarke startled, chasing away the questions she couldn't ask a soul - not when her wife was the Queen herself. Maya approached her with a frown, unsure what to make of the Consort's troubled expression.

"Yes, I was just captivated by the sunset," Clarke half-lied. "I never saw it from this high above."

Maya's mouth curved into a proud smile. "It's even more beautiful in the winter; not a view you'll ever get tired of."

Clarke could easily believe that. She lingered a while longer, wishing the sun didn't fall so quickly. Maya was good at what she did, patient and discreet as she waited, but Clarke shamefully wished she'd retreat back to Lexa's side instead.

"Is Her Majesty back in the council room?" Clarke asked.

Maya shook her head. "The council ended before supper. I believe she went to the stables to prepare her horse for tomorrow."

Clarke frowned, turning to face her lady-in-waiting. "Tomorrow?"

Maya seemed surprised. "Her Majesty didn't—?" At Clarke's blink, she suddenly paled. "Forgive me, Your Highness, I- I thought she would've—but of course both your days were full and—"

"Maya. Take a breath."

Maya's cheeks grew red. "Tomorrow is the first hunting trip of the season. I should've informed you earlier."

It was a puzzling statement before Clarke realized that someone else entirely should've informed her. If the castle was short on meat, there was no doubt Lexa had been the first to know. She had likely spent the last few days ensuring her best hunters were prepared for the long days ahead. Feeding the castle and its surroundings was no short task.

"I see."

It shouldn't have surprised her that Lexa or the council had omitted to tell her, but it stung regardless. She swallowed the lump in her throat, feeling homesick and incompetent. If Lexa found her so unfit to command by her side, she might as well relegate her to trimming the citrus trees or polishing the silverware.

"I heard Duchess Griffin is an expert huntress," Maya suddenly said, fidgeting in place like she wasn't used to staying still for too long. It was kind of her to want to make Clarke feel at ease, but the mention of her mother had the opposite effect.

"There isn't much my mother isn't good at," she deflected.

Maya understood the soreness of the topic, her face suddenly decomposing as she realized she'd overstepped her bounds as lady-in-waiting. Clarke had no desire to make her feel bad about it. She turned away from the balustrade and squeezed Maya's arm.

"Actually it's been a while since I went on a hunt. Is it unusual for the consort to join?" She asked, hoping it'd allow her to step away from the castle for at least a day. She knew she could very well take a stroll in the forest if she wanted, but it was unlikely she'd get to do it alone. At least with a hunting trip where everyone would be focused on their task, disappearing for a moment seemed more feasible.

"On the contrary," Maya responded, "I'm sure the Queen would welcome your company."

Clarke mustered a thin smile. "I look forward to it."

♕

It was no surprise to Clarke anymore when Lexa didn't join her in bed. She blew out the candles and hurried beneath the covers when a chill crept down her spine. She stared at the ceiling a moment before she turned on her side. The pillow meant for Lexa remained cold and untouched, much like her share of the covers.

Clarke was used to sleeping alone; she'd done it her entire life. She knew how still and quiet the night was, how dark it became when the clouds were thick and the moon hid behind them. 

She'd never imagined she would know this kind of silence after her wedding. She had thought there would always be something to fill it: a body shifting beside her, a sigh, a cough here and there during the winter, a few mumbles, a laugh or a sniffle, anything that came from sleeping next to someone for the rest of her life. There'd been something comforting about it, knowing they would be at their most vulnerable together. A part of her even looked forward to it.

The night before their wedding, Clarke had hoped those would be the moments she would get to know Lexa. They would start by filling uncomfortable silences with polite small talk and then slowly reveal pieces of themselves as they grew used to each other's presence. It wouldn't be easy, and maybe they would've slept with their backs turned at first, but Clarke had foolishly believed it was how they would've gotten closer. And perhaps one day they would go to bed and Clarke would realize she loved this wife of hers.

Clarke sighed, trying to remember her wedding day more clearly and to find fault in anything she did. Perhaps she hadn't bowed quickly enough and Lexa took offense, or maybe it was when she briefly forgot her vows, and Lexa had to squeeze her hand beneath the cloth. But all of it was so minuscule, so inconsequential, that she couldn't imagine the Queen, who had such heavier matters to deal with every day, caring about it at all.

Lexa didn't want this marriage - she said so herself. But she'd agreed to it, Clarke told herself, and in doing so the choice had been made for both of them. So for Lexa to be at angry at her…

Clarke buried her face in the pillow to muffle her groan.

♕

Dawn came quickly, its golden glow slowly warming the dewy grass. In the royal gardens, Clarke let out a loud sneeze as she walked down the path. With watery eyes, she cursed the powder Maya had applied to her face after she woke. Meant to hide her fatigue, it'd also made her nose terribly itchy.

With the hunting horn so close to sounding, Clarke only had the time to dress and eat a small collation of bread and cheese. She wore pants (a small blessing) and a warm top beneath the riding coat, but felt nothing like she did when she used to hunt with her mother.

Still, the prospect of a small moment of peace in the forest was enough to make her stifle another sneeze and trudge on through the gardens. Maya waited for her near the great oak and guided her toward the busy stables behind the castle. Her horse was ready for her, a dark and noble mare with gentle eyes. One of the stable girls offered to help her up, but Clarke was already in the saddle by the time she finished her sentence. Maya took her leave and Clarke wished her a good day, nearly remorseful when she breathed a sigh of relief. If Maya had decided to join, it would've been impossible to leave her side.

It was the stable girl that led her down the hill and closer to the forest. Clarke noticed the bulk of the hunting party, women and men with bows and arrows on their backs, knives in their sheaths, and dogs barking at the first line of trees, eager and ready.

As imposing as they looked, none of them were quite as striking as the Queen atop her white stallion. Lexa carried two bows, two quivers full of arrows, and wore gloves cut at the fingertips. Her clothes were… fancier than Clarke expected, with her red sash wrapped around her shoulders and over her head like a hood. Her riding coat fit her impeccably, of course, and her boots were so polished they were sure to reflect the sun.

Clarke straightened in her saddle and the stable girl stopped.

"She responds well to you," the girl said, and it took a moment for Clarke to realize she was talking about the mare.

"Thank you for grooming her. She's lovely."

"Don't thank me," the girl grinned, "Her Majesty did it herself."

Clarke glanced at her wife and noticed how Lexa's palm glided up and down her horse's neck, soothing and calm even when surrounded by the excitement of a hunt.

"I'll have to thank her then," Clarke corrected herself. The stable girl smiled wider and bowed her head before making her way up the hill.

Clarke held on to the reins tightly as the mare walked toward the Queen's horse, one she seemed to know quite well if the nudge against the stallion's flank was any indication. They had probably been mated.

Lexa nodded her good morning. "I'm glad you could join us."

"Likewise," Clarke responded.

Lexa reached down to run a hand between the mare's ears. "Celeste is our gentlest mount. She should be an easy ride for you."

Clarke felt offended. Perhaps it was because Lexa's horse was much bigger, forcing her to look up. She managed to hold her tongue for just a moment.

"You think I require easy, Your Majesty?"

Lexa straightened back in her saddle. "I don't pretend to know what you require."

"Clearly."

Lexa seemed controlled this time, none of her anger visible the way it had been in the gardens. "Have I offended you?" She asked.

Clarke wondered if it would truly matter to Lexa if she had. She was about to say just as much when she let out a loud sneeze. The horses' ears perked up and Lexa looked at her with a frown.

"Are you all right?"

Clarke nodded. "It's only a small—" Another sneeze ensued, this one nearly making her ribcage rattle. She felt her eyes water and inwardly cursed for forgetting her handkerchief.

Lexa reached into her pocket and extended her own. "You're unwell."

"I'm fine." Clarke stubbornly refused the square of fabric.

"Your sneezing will scare the animals away. You should rest."

Clarke's hands tightened around the bridle. Lexa wouldn't keep her away this time. "Do you not want me here?" She asked abruptly.

It wasn't something Lexa could ever say out loud and both of them knew it. Clarke stared straight into her wife's eyes, and despite the difference in height, Lexa was the one to back down.

"Of course I do," Lexa sighed. She unhooked the bow and quiver from her back. "You'll need these."

Clarke took the quiver. "Thank you." She wore it so the arrows rested behind her left shoulder, and she felt for the bow in her right hand, noticing how much lighter it was than the one she had at home.

"You draw with your left hand?" Lexa asked.

Clarke nodded distractedly. "My mother couldn't get me to use the right."

Lexa frowned. "Why would she want to do that?"

The sound of the horn startled them. Clarke watched as the first dogs were set loose.

The hunt had just begun.

♕

The hunting party split into several groups, horses and dogs led through the thick of the forest in all directions. Clarke had nearly asked if she could venture out on her own, but her mare had started to follow Lexa's horse and it became clear why Clarke's ride was... easy indeed.

There were five archers and two bodyguards with them - Clarke knew Ryder and Gustus well enough by now - but Lexa still remained at the head of their group. The horses were familiar with the dogs, not even blinking when they sniffed around their hooves and ran through their legs, disappearing behind bushes and trees to reappear moments later.

If it weren't for the weapons they carried, Clarke could've pretended this was just a casual walk. She yearned for it.

"We're going toward the river," Gustus said, riding next to her.

Clarke noticed his small smile and the glint in his eye.

"You seemed to wonder," he added.

She decided she liked Gustus right then, the type of man who hid his warmth beneath a stern exterior. He was tall and broad, more muscular than Clarke's father had ever been, but he carried himself in the same way and Clarke regretted that she hadn't gotten to know him yet.

"Do you like hunting?" She asked him, seeking to fill the time before they reached the river.

"I like having a full stomach," he answered.

Clarke chuckled. "Not for trophies, then."

He shook his head. "I don't find any pleasure in it."

Clarke hummed, avoiding a branch. "My mother only ever did it for the thrill of it," she admitted.

Gustus nodded in understanding, though he would never say anything that could be taken as a reproach. Abigail Griffin had become the mother of a queen, and Clarke knew a man like Gustus would cut his tongue out before he ever said anything disapproving.

They continued in silence after that.

It was a little while before they heard the ripple of the small river and dismounted their horses. Clarke watched Gustus reach for his knife and wondered if he'd seen something, but he remained that way until they neared the water. It was futile: the banks were empty, not even a rabbit in sight. Clarke knew hunting was about the wait, though she had no desire to be patient today.

Ryder went one way with the archers and dogs while Gustus remained by Lexa's side, speaking in hushed tones. With Lexa's back to her, Clarke didn't hesitate a moment longer. She turned and walked by their horses to weave her way through bushes and trees. 

Her heart pounded the further she went, alone outside of the castle grounds for the first time since her wedding.

She let her fingertips touch at everything: the bark, the leaves, the moss, and every singular thing she missed about nature. She leaned against one tree and took a few deep breaths, grateful for the pause. It was different than being alone at night. She could hear herself think here, and so she allowed some thoughts for her mother, the first to teach her how to hold a bow, for her father, the first to walk her through the forest, so different from this one and yet the same. She closed her eyes and tried to calm her heart. She was a queen now and there was no other choice but to fill the role the best she could.

The distant crack of a branch made her jolt.

Clarke looked toward the small clearing ahead and froze: a wild boar was sniffing at the ground, its front hoof going back and forth in the dirt. It was quiet around them, a deathly hush of nature as Clarke slowly reached back for an arrow and placed it on the bow.

It wasn't an easy shot, but Clarke had watched her mother manage more difficult marks. She hesitated before pulling at the string, aiming low toward the animal's chest.

"Don't."

Clarke startled, glancing at the side and seeing the red of Lexa's hood. "You scared me."

Lexa came closer, not making a sound.

Clarke swallowed hard.  "What do you mean _don't_?"

"She's a sow."

Clarke frowned, looking more intently at the animal. She realized what Lexa meant when two shoats appeared from behind a bush. Her heart thudded in her chest, but pity wasn't a good trait to have while hunting.

"And?"

Lexa stopped behind her. "Let her go," she murmured.

Clarke's arm tensed, muscles starting to strain. "With all due respect, Your Majesty—"

"It's Lexa."

Clarke's hand tightened around the bow. "This is hardly the moment."

She felt Lexa's presence behind her, not threatening in the least, but... something else.

"You're distracting me," Clarke realized.

"Is it working?"

Clarke changed her aim as the sow moved toward a tree, still unaware an arrow was pointed her way.

"Clarke." It was murmured low behind her, the first time Clarke heard Lexa say her name. It unsettled her far more than she wanted it to.

"Stop it," Clarke said between her teeth, more to herself than the stubborn queen behind her.

Lexa remained silent, and Clarke felt her nose twitch just a moment too late. "I-I—" Her eyes squeezed shut as she let out a sneeze, trying uselessly to muffle it into her sleeve. The sow's head lifted up immediately and she emitted a screech before taking off with her shoats in tow.

A second sneeze followed and Clarke pinched her nose. "Damnit!" She exclaimed, walking toward the clearing with her arrow in hand. She turned to face Lexa.

"Why did you stop me? I would've made the shot," Clarke accused.

Lexa seemed hesitant to explain herself. "She farrowed just recently. We have plenty to hunt other than mothers."

Clarke opened her mouth to protest, but realization dawned on her when Lexa cleared her throat and looked away.

"We should head back. Gustus was antsy that you disappeared."

Clarke watched Lexa turn and walk toward the river with her hand on the hilt of her dagger. It wasn't the mother Lexa was protecting, but rather the litter that would've been orphaned. Clarke felt her heart tighten, overwhelmed by a sudden bolt of affection.

On the way back, it was the third sneeze and following sniffle that made her concede. Even if she wasn't ill, her noisy interruptions were the last thing their hunting party needed. Clarke untied her mare's bridle.

"I'm going back to the castle."

Lexa turned around, surprised at first and then nodding in agreement. "Gustus will join you."

"That won't be necessary. I know my way."

Lexa seemed torn between taking a step forward or giving up. She chose the former. "Do you enjoy challenging everything I say?"

Clarke mounted her horse. "I don't need an escort to ride through the forest."

Lexa stopped in front of the mare and looked up at Clarke. "I will not bend on your safety."

"I have a bow and plenty of arrows."

"You'll ride back with Gustus. That's final."

Clarke gritted her teeth. "I suppose if Her Majesty orders it."

Lexa seemed taken aback by the concession, then apologetic. "My word isn't above yours. I merely wish that you be safe. As a new Queen you're subject to—"

"I've agreed," Clarke interrupted.

Lexa brought a hand to the back of her neck and sighed. "I'll go find Gustus."

♕

The stables were quiet when Clarke and Gustus entered them. The smell of hay was almost enough to make Clarke sneeze again, but she pinched her nose and quickly walked out with Gustus by her side. She wondered if he was upset the hunt was cut short for him, but his demeanor seemed lighter and he even smiled when Lady Maya greeted them.

As soon as Clarke was in her room, she asked for a small bucket of water. She washed her face twice and wiped it dry, not caring if her eyes looked tired or her skin looked paler. Maya didn't say anything but hopefully she tossed away the powder tomorrow.

Throughout the day, Clarke took advantage of her lack of duties to explore the corridors and rooms she hadn't stepped inside yet. She admired the collections of books and the portraits that depicted Lexa's lineage. As far as Clarke knew, none of them had died the way Lexa's parents had, in their prime and beloved by most. Clarke knew enough about this kind of pain to see Lexa still carried her grief, and would carry it for the rest of her life.

She was still in the library by the time Maya came to announce the first hunting parties were coming back. Clarke walked back toward the stables and down the hill, greeting the first hunters who carried boars, rabbits, and more birds than Clarke could count. It seemed like too much for a first day but Clarke sometimes forgot how many people lived within and just outside of the castle. Some of the dogs were carried on the backs of the hunters, most likely wounded by cornered prey.

Gustus and Maya broke off to help guide the horses, and Clarke stood by with her hands in front of her, eyes trained on the forest. More horns resounded from afar, and archers slowly trickled out of the forest, tired but triumphant. It'd been a successful hunt and the next few days would be good as well. But the more faces Clarke saw, the more she fidgeted.

There was one missing, and no one seemed to have noticed.

Clarke continued to walk toward the edge of the forest, passing the hunters that clasped each other's backs and looked forward to a feast.

She halted in her tracks when a white horse finally came into view. Lexa walked by its side with a limp, somber and speckled with blood over her eyelids, cheeks, and nose. She held the bridle with only one hand, the other pressed against her stomach. Ryder was nowhere to be seen and Clarke felt her heart miss a beat. When Lexa let out a groan and stopped in her tracks, Clarke gave into her impulse and rushed by her side.

"Lexa," Clarke gasped without thought. "You're hurt."

Lexa's hood and hair hid her face and Clarke swallowed her fears. "What happened?" She asked, hush and discreet. It didn't do any good for a queen to be seen suffering. If maybe she could help in some way…

Lexa lifted her head. She had a tired smile. "This is the first time you've said my name."

Clarke scowled. "That is neither here nor there. Where are you hurt? Your stomach?"

Lexa started walking again. "It's nothing. Barely a scratch."

Clarke stepped in front of her. "You're bleeding."

"Do you care about the health of a stranger now?"

It was a biting question and Clarke faltered, remembering their exchange in the gardens. 

"You're the Queen, everyone cares about your health."

Lexa's jaw twitched. "How fortunate that is." She pulled on her stallion's bridle and continued her walk up the hill.

Clarke stayed rooted in place until she couldn't hold back the words anymore.

"You're the one who walks away," she accused.

Lexa turned around with wide eyes. She approached Clarke cautiously.

"Is that not what you wished for?"

Clarke looked away and then hesitantly shook her head. She heard Lexa's nervous intake of breath. 

"Would... when we married... were you open to courtship?"

A blush crept on Clarke's cheeks and down her neck. "No, I, I didn't mean it that way."

"Then what way?"

Clarke frowned, at a loss. Friendship was possible, surely, but a hill surrounded by famished hunters was hardly the place to discuss this. Lexa didn't seem to care what their conversation might look like from afar.

"In the gardens we agreed neither of us wanted this marriage."

"We did."

"Is that still—"

A loud grunt interrupted them. They watched Ryder emerge from the forest carrying a stag with one of the archers. Clarke looked from the animal to the blood on her wife's face and clothes. As if self-conscious now, Lexa took out her handkerchief to wipe at her cheeks.

"I didn't take it down by myself, if that's what you're wondering," she clarified.  

Clarke nodded mutely, unsure where to go from then on. Lexa seemed just as hesitant.

"It's tradition for a new season's first hunt to be followed by a celebration," she said, her tone much more formal now. "Of course if you don't feel well, I can ask for a healer to come."

"I feel better now."

Lexa nodded. "I'm glad." She looked back at her stallion, now lazily grazing fresh grass. "I should head back to the stables before he eats his way through dirt."

Clarke bit back a small smile. She watched as Lexa pulled the reins and guided her horse up the hill, her shoulders hunched and no doubt tired. It had been a long day and there was still a feast ahead. Clarke was still caught on their conversation. Her heart hadn't stopped pounding at the mention of courtship. It was foolish - she couldn't imagine Lexa entertaining the thought for very long. With a sigh, she went back up the hill and passed the stables without a glance back.


	3. Chapter 3

Clarke had changed into a pale blue dress, a gift her mother had left behind before her departure. It was the style Clarke preferred when it came to dresses, the bodice not too tight and the material light and soft. She'd ambled along the castle halls, committing to memory which door led where. Once in her room she sat at her desk and wrote a few letters, one to Wells and the second to Raven Reyes, who last she knew was in the West getting courted by a poor but well-meaning courier. It'd been weeks since she last heard of her friend and she was curious to know whether she'd decided to stay in the waterlogged lands. Perhaps she was too wrapped up in her happiness and wanted to keep it to herself for a while longer. Clarke found herself wondering how that might feel, to be so consumed by a lover that the rest of the world faded, but her small smile fell with one look at the crown atop its cushion. She finished the letters quickly.

As the sun lowered in the sky, the smell of mouthwatering foods started permeating the room. Clarke looked out the window and craned her neck to catch a glimpse of the commotion in the courtyard. Villagers came in and out of the castle walls with their horse-drawn carts, ready to make the small trip back down the hill and into the surrounding village. If there was one thing Clarke knew about her wife, aside from her soft spot for orphans, it was that she would starve herself before she ever let her people go hungry. The surrounding villages benefited from the hunts just as much as the castle did.

"Please be careful, Your Highness."

Clarke turned away from the window at the sound of Maya's voice. Her Lady-in-waiting worried too much about her safety, but Clarke couldn't fault her for doing her duty.

"Are you certain there isn't anything I can do to help?" Clarke asked. "It seems everyone is busy but me; that doesn't seem right."

Maya smiled in understanding. "I'm afraid the kitchens are in a state of chaos already. One more body in there and the Chef might melt."

"What about the great hall?"

"All set up. The guests are arriving."

Clarke rubbed her hand against her arm, feeling restless. "And Her Majesty? Is she still in the stables?"

"I believe she's gone to the library. She likes the quiet."

Clarke nodded, willing herself to not be disappointed again. Of course Lexa was staying away. And why wouldn't she? Clarke had accused her of walking away and then denied it was courtship she was after. She'd confused both the Queen and herself.

"I should be there to greet the guests, shouldn't I?"

Maya bit her lip to hide her amusement. "It is more common to wait for everyone to be seated. Her Majesty usually attends when the sun has set."

Clarke sat at the edge of the bed, worrying her hands on her lap. Receiving guests as the daughter of a Duchess was much easier than receiving them as the Consort. There was still so much to learn.

"You must be so tired of me," she sighed.

"Of course not," Maya rushed to her side. "Why do you say that?"

"I can't seem to do anything right, Maya."

"Oh, Your Highness, you've only been here a few days. No one faults you for still finding your way."

Clarke looked up, feeling her eyes prickle. "Please, sit."

Maya sat next to her, a soothing presence just in the warm way she looked at her.

"All the castle hands, the guards, even the hunters—they look at the Queen as if they would die for her. And I can't help but wonder what difference I could possibly make, when all I seem to do is get lost or leave a hunt before it's even started."

"They didn't always look at her in such a way," Maya disclosed, as if the memory made her ashamed. "There was a time, shortly after her parents passed, that many of the castle hands were uneasy. When she came down the great hall, they saw a crown that was too big and a sword that was too long. They saw the child who had grown before their eyes, but was still much too young to rule. Everyday she would tell us a crown does not make a queen, but soon she would be worthy of it. She left for the North shortly after that, and came back with a stronger alliance. It was only then that people looked at her as they do today."

"You know her so well," Clarke murmured.

Maya smiled softly. "It's an unfair comparison. My mother was her mother's Lady-in-waiting. I've been here my whole life. I even remember when Her Majesty was born."

"You do?"

"I was five; already taught to run around and retrieve more sheets," Maya chuckled to herself.

Clarke couldn't help but be curious. "Was it an easy birth?"

"Oh yes," Maya nodded. "I think they were worried for a moment when she didn't make a sound. I remember how very red in the face she was, but then suddenly her arms stretched out and she let out the loudest cry. She quieted quickly in her mother's arms, but it was a sight to see. It's very like her—to sense a room before she makes her presence known, I mean."

Clarke couldn't help but think about her wife's childhood. Lexa had such tight control over her emotions; it was hard to imagine her otherwise. Had she ever run down the castle halls, jumped down the stairs? Had she ever laughed at the top of her lungs? Had she ever scrapped her knee in the gardens and blubbered for someone to kiss it better? In all of Clarke's memories, Lexa already had the weight of the realm on her shoulders. If she had any fears at all, she hid them well. It was striking to think they could've easily met before, two girls promised to something greater. Clarke wondered what would've happened if her father had brought her along his trips to the castle sooner.

"Did you ever meet my father?" Clarke asked mindlessly, a part of her wishing to lose herself in the joyful parts of the past.

"I don't believe so," Maya admitted. "I know he had a good relationship with the late king."

"They had the same sword master," Clarke recalled the story. "Back home—" she faltered on the word before correcting herself. "At the Griffin estate, we still have some of their correspondence in a safe. I used to think my father was such a poet, but it turns out their letters were poorly written squabbles about whatever debts they never settled in the past."

Maya let out a small laugh. "I'm sure the Queen would love to read those."

Clarke forced a smile, nodding as if she considered the possibility of sharing such a story with Lexa. They hadn't even had one discussion that didn't end poorly. Clarke was relying on Maya's company to fill a void, but it wasn't her she had made a vow to. 

"I'm sorry, you're very busy and I'm going on about the past."

"It's all right, Your Highness. I like to hear about it."

"You're too kind to me." Clarke got up and closed the window, noticing the sun was now setting and it would be time to eat soon. It was a warm night and Clarke realized she was getting hungry. At least if no one spoke to her, she could eat to her heart's content.

"Good evening."

Clarke whipped around, heart jumping when she saw Lexa standing in the doorway. She wore a midnight blue dress with long embroidered sleeves and had undone her braids, crown atop her head and wavy locks swept to one side. Clarke was stunned in place, both by her wife's beauty and her presence in the room she had so far avoided.

Maya stood up with a familiar smile. "Good evening, Your Majesty. Would you like me to announce the start of the banquet?"

"Yes, we should be there shortly. Thank you, Maya."

Maya nodded with a small bow before leaving the room.

Lexa remained still, clearly hesitant to step inside the room—which was absurd, Clarke thought, it was _her_ room after all.

"Do you feel better?" Clarke asked with a slight rasp.

"Of course." Lexa clasped her hands in front of her. "It was just a tumble."

"It seemed worse than that."

"Well… the stag caught my horse by surprise."

Clarke waited for more until she realized—"You fell off your horse."

Lexa looked away and cleared her throat. "Perhaps."

Clarke picked up on her embarrassment and decided against prolonging it. "Should we make our way down?" She asked, aware it would be the first time she walked the halls of the castle with Lexa by her side.

"If the sun has already set…"

Clarke looked out the window and nodded, noticing the last streaks of light had already disappeared.

"I apologize for earlier," Lexa said, posture rigid. "Walking away, as you put it."

Clarke felt a little stunned. Just a moment ago she'd been so sure that Lexa would keep their talk short, as she had before.

"There's no need," she answered, though she was grateful for the words.

"The reason I… that I've been…" Lexa sighed. "It was never my intention to make you feel uncomfortable. I know it must be hard for you, to be in a strange place surrounded by people who look at you with expectant eyes. It was wrong of me to leave you to it."

Clarke was at a loss, unsure what Lexa wanted, and feeling like the space between them was far too wide for this conversation.

"I would…" Lexa swallowed hard. "I would like for you to feel at home."

Clarke picked up on the Queen's unease in the subtle way she gripped her sleeve as she would her sword, if she had it. It was this very expression that Clarke had seen in the forest, when Lexa had let the sow live. She felt herself softening. If Lexa was willing to put their previous encounters behind, she would make the effort as well.

"I'd like that, too."

Lexa relaxed her shoulders, a weight lifted between them. It didn't settle other matters, but it was a step forward.

"Are you ready for the banquet?" Lexa asked.

"Yes, I'm famished."

Lexa seemed close to smiling. Her eyes trailed from Clarke's hands to her arms and her neck, settling at the top of her head. She looked to the side and pointed at Clarke's crown.

"May I?"

Clarke nodded wordlessly, stepping aside to let Lexa pick up her crown. Lexa stood behind her, like she had in the forest, and Clarke felt the weight of the crown atop her head.

"This will be our first banquet," Lexa murmured. "We sit as equals."

Clarke closed her eyes, willing the strange rhythm of her heart to quiet. "I was told a crown doesn't make a queen…"

Lexa stood silently, no doubt wondering how her very own words had gotten to Clarke's ears. "I believe in exceptions. Besides, you've dealt with more private demands in a few days than I have my entire reign. That alone deserves the title."

Clarke couldn't resist; she turned around with a small smile. "And how long did it take you to tire of their demands?"

"Just about a day after I was crowned," Lexa admitted with a sheepish smile. "I have little patience for old lords requesting more land. I believe one of them is still in the dungeon." She said it with such serious that Clarke nearly believed it.

"If that's how you deal with disagreements," she played along, "I'm glad we've finally come to an understanding."

Lexa nodded slowly. "You may still delegate the task, if you wish."

"That's fine, I've enjoyed most of my conversations with them. Besides, I've just started putting the right faces to the right names."

It was true that entertaining their peerage and signing decrees wasn't the most absorbing endeavor, but Clarke had come to enjoy it. She still remembered Lord Dewitt's relieved expression when she had given him the decree that would free up his land from the greedy clutch of his neighbor. That alone made it worth it. Of course it helped that Abigail had made sure her daughter possessed the social grace of a future queen. At fourteen, Clarke had already known how to talk circles around Masters of Speech. She always got a thrill out of it.

"There'll be little of that tonight," Lexa assured her, stepping to the side. Pleasant as it was, this moment couldn't last. "Coherent conversations don't last very long when your guests are presented with good wine."

They walked toward the door, Lexa toying with the ends of her hair. Clarke wondered if she was nervous about something, but she regained her usual composure with her hands behind her back as soon as they stepped into the corridor.

Clarke glided her fingers against the stone of the arches they passed, grateful for the breeze. Her chest felt as constrained as it did on their wedding day, but she knew her own apprehension was at fault. She had envisioned this before, when they hadn't even met yet. She'd imagined Lexa and her walking side by side, chatting about the day. Companionship. Intimacy. But there was something between them she couldn't pinpoint. It was still hard to believe she had become a wife and the Consort in one day. Clarke wondered if now would be the time to ask why… why Lexa had agreed to her and not any other Lady in the realm.

She was still deep in thought when Lexa turned and pulled the side of a tapestry to reveal a door. Clarke's eyes widened, looking between the door and the end of the corridor. "What—?"

"Did Maya not show you?"

"I… I asked her to give me a little time to find my way before she mapped out everything for me. I thought the stairs to the south wing were the quickest way to the great hall, but…"

Lexa bit back a smile.

"What?" Clarke frowned.

"These are the stairs to the south wing."

Clarke felt her face grow hot with embarrassment. "No, I—but the narrow staircase over there—?"

"Ah. That would be the Treasurer's private passageway, just above his chamber. I'm surprised Titus hasn't heard your footsteps, he's a very light sleeper."

 _Of course_. Clarke felt her heart stop, mortified. Lexa pushed open the door and turned to let Clarke through first.

"Don't worry so much," Lexa assured her. And then, with an air of cockiness that Clarke had never guessed her wife to possess, she leaned against the doorway. "This castle is ours."

After that they made their way down the winding stairs in relative silence, the space wide and well lit by torches and a small window at every turn. The stone was polished, every step clean, and the flames from the torches cast dancing shadows on the exquisite architecture. Clarke had no desire to ever use the Treasurer's musty staircase again.

She realized they'd arrived when she heard music, loud chatter, and laughter. There was no door at the base of the stairwell, simply an open archway that led to the great hall. Lexa stopped on the last step, still hidden by the wall.

She turned to Clarke and offered her hand with her palm up. They had a part to play. If the hunters didn't care much about the way the Queen and her Consort acted around each other, the nobles surely would. Tonight was about celebration, but appearances were a close second. Clarke knew as much just by the hand Lexa was extending.

Similar to their wedding, she took it dutifully. Their guests quieted as soon as they stepped into the light.

♕

Clarke had never seen so much food in her life. There was a little under a hundred guests—all of them tearing into the succulent meats and bread with avid appetites—and Clarke couldn't help but wonder about the state of the kitchen and its cooks. Lexa and her were seated at the head of the largest table, and two other tables stretched all the way across the hall. It was hard to recognize the room she had been married in. The castle hands worked quickly and discretely, so much so that Clarke only noticed them after she'd finished her plate of quail.

Lexa had gone into conversation with the woman closest to her—it was either Lady Byrne or Lady Haine, Clarke couldn't remember—and most of the guests were well on their way to jovial inebriation. To be honest, it was amusing to watch some usually pompous Lords and Ladies shamelessly vie for the attention of the free-spirited hunters. Clarke suspected that, come morning, they would pretend it had never happened. But wine rarely lied, which was why Clarke kept her cup filled and untouched.

She observed her people banter loudly, and wondered if each one had come here with a purpose in mind. It was too long a ride for most nobles to ride out of their country houses on time, and with Lexa being married now, there was less incentive for the young Ladies to stop by. Light courting during royal banquets was acceptable, but the noise and general clamor wasn't ideal. If they wanted to stay in the Queen's good graces, quieter meetings during the day were also preferable. Clarke attempted to guess why most of them had traveled so far. Surely it couldn't only be for the food and wine.

Clarke briefly glanced at her wife but only caught her profile, partially hidden by her hair. Had the nobles come to sneak glances their way, then? Looking at their empty cups, Clarke couldn't imagine they'd remember much at dawn. She relaxed considerably after that.

"Is there anything you'd like, Your Highness?" It was Maya leaning next to her, her voice just loud enough to be heard over the buzzing sounds that surrounded them.

"I'm all right, Maya. Thank you. Have you eaten?"

Maya grinned as she nodded. She looked younger in the candlelight, almost Clarke's age. "Candied fruit and too many slices of sweet tart."

"You deserved them," Clarke chuckled.

Maya smiled before disappearing amongst the many other helping hands. Clarke finished her pastry and focused her attention on the Lords closest to her, one with a voracious appetite for venison, clearly, and the other with shifting eyes and sweat beading over his brow.

"Are you well, Lord Sinclair?"

The graying man looked her way and forced a smile. "Quite well, Your Highness. Forgive me, I'm rather silent tonight."

"That makes you and I the only ones."

Sinclair let out a small laugh, more at ease now. Clarke could tell he wasn't too comfortable with these types of boisterous celebrations. It was likely his husband had sent him to represent their good name.

"I look forward to your new invention," Clarke told him.

Sinclair seemed to beam at the mention. "You'll be the first informed when it's fully ready."

"And you have our full support."

"Thank you, Your Highness."

"Only a few days married and she already speaks in my name," Lexa's voice cut through.

Clarke startled, turning in her seat. Lexa's smile was a little lazy, but cheerful enough that Clarke knew she meant nothing by her remark. Still, the red in her cheeks was enough to tell Clarke the Queen had indulged in more than one cup of wine.

"My husband shares the same trait," Sinclair answered, now as equally amused. "I can't say I dislike it."

Lexa glanced back at Clarke. "Neither can I."

♕

As most celebrations tended to go, the loud buzz naturally died down when Lexa quietly asked the castle hands to stop bringing out the wine. The guests left quickly after she thanked them for their company. Clarke was glad for it, having fought yawns throughout her entire conversation with Lord Pike, the self-proclaimed Master of Grain. Lexa then congratulated the castle hands and cooks, her words genuine but tired. It had been a long day and an even longer evening.

Clarke remained by her side as they left the great hall and went back up the stairs. One of these days she would have to ask Sinclair if he could invent a faster way to climb up a castle. 

"Did you enjoy the evening?" Lexa softly asked once they made it out of the staircase and into the corridor. 

Without thinking, they both stopped in front of one of the arches. The sky was dark, moody, a few stars barely peeking through. Clarke enjoyed the fresh air. The great hall had gotten increasingly stuffy as the evening went on.

"I'm glad our guests enjoyed themselves. And the food was delicious, of course."

Lexa leaned against the cold stone. She hadn't missed her wife's wording and seemed to agree with it herself. "We celebrate a successful first hunt by devouring most of what we've caught, isn’t it absurd?" She mused aloud. "I admire the way my parents ruled, but some of their traditions have become..."

Clarke watched as Lexa clamped her mouth shut, perhaps to avoid voicing her frustration any further. The effects of the wine seemed long gone.

"It was a successful evening," Clarke cut in. "Everyone seemed happy to share it with you."

Lexa still seemed deep in thought when she looked back at her. "Has Maya told you about our trip to the North?"

Clarke frowned, unsure she'd heard correctly. A trip? "To the North? No. When?"

"A few days. Three, if that's all right. Another tradition."

"I've never heard of it."

"It… isn't anything very entertaining. Since the Marchioness could not come to our wedding, I've arranged another meeting."

"Can't she come herself?" Clarke had never seen or met the woman, but for the Queen to displace herself for something so trivial as introducing her Consort was unheard of.

Lexa's hand gripped the white stone. "The Marchioness cannot make long trips."

"How come?"

"It'll only be a few days."

It was ambiguous at best and Clarke hated it. "If she wants to speak about the trading that passes through the Griffin estate, my mother would surely—"

"Our sovereignty isn't supreme in the North."

Lexa said it so quickly that it almost came out as one word. Once it was out, Clarke watched as her entire body tensed. She seemed ashamed to even move a muscle.

Clarke's mouth parted, at a loss. "Not… supreme? You're the Queen, of course it is. Their lands belong to you."

"To us," Lexa corrected in a whisper. She turned to look at the ends of the corridor, still empty. It was a side of Lexa that Clarke didn't know, the woman beneath the crown, not invincible after all, a woman with a body like hers that tired at the end of the day, that feared her words could be heard. "Agreements were made. I had to—I couldn't see another way. It was the only way." She turned to Clarke, her face paler in the fading moonlight. "Do you understand?"

"The treaties," Clarke recalled. "The time you spent in the North, after—" she cut herself off, aware she was stumbling into Lexa's past without permission.

"After my parents were ambushed and killed," Lexa finished for her, voice void of emotion. "And still I needed to ensure peace."

Clarke paled at the realization. "You bowed to her?"

"No," Lexa snapped, anger in her tone. "I would not. I traded control for peace. It was the right thing to do."

"You shouldn't have had to—"

Lexa shook her head, spine straight and chin high now. "My parents and my grandparents avoided war for a century. It isn't a legacy I'm prepared to ruin." 

The silence after that felt deafening. Clarke couldn't stand it.

"Does the Marchioness truly have an army?"

Lexa smoothed the crease between her brows and sighed, sounding heavily burdened by this conversation, but knowing she had started it for good reasons. "Not so much an army, but rather… nobles and masters aligned with her way of thinking who have gained more partisans in the last decade. I was made aware they've even convinced some laborers it would be in their best interest to rebel against the crown."

"What do they want?"

"Control, mainly. Power to create laws in their lands. Setting their own wages rather than the one my parents established seemed their biggest concern. The Marchioness even wishes for her own currency."

"That's absurd," Clarke huffed. "She would start a tyranny in no less than a day."

"It will never come to that, I made sure of it in the treaties."

"What kind of control did you relinquish, then? There must've been something for her to agree. We've had peace throughout your rule."

Lexa nodded, but Clarke understood peace had not come easy. It explained the long and secretive time she had spent there. "The Marchioness has several price cuts on our trades, liberty over some inhabited lands, and a certain... power against our newer laws. An ability to refuse them, if you will. But she has gotten greedier... I'd like to ensure it doesn't happen again."

"And you are using me to go back north without raising suspicion. Pretending you wish to introduce me to who our people assume is our greatest tradeswoman."

Lexa seemed ashamed. "If it displeases you in any way, I—"

"I understand, Lexa."

Lexa blinked, clearly surprised the conversation hadn't escalated. "You aren't mad?"

"We all make sacrifices. I'll go to the North with you and ensure this one wasn't in vain."

"I'm… grateful."

"Change takes time," Clarke murmured.

She didn't dare look away, staring into Lexa's eyes as she had done during their wedding. But Lexa's gaze had changed since that day, perhaps softened. Clarke hoped that it had. Finally Lexa smiled, barely there and at one corner of her mouth, but there nonetheless, the sweetest thing Clarke had ever seen.

"Yes, it does."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: the North, the Marchioness, and one bedroom for two royal guests.


End file.
